Last August, my person (my mommabear) went in for a routine check-up. They asked her to stay for extra tests. The next day, they had quintuple bypass surgery. Since my mommabear refused to create a living will, POA, or any of that stuff, I was going to be forced to deal with a very troubled soul. Her son was digging through her phone/emails when she was unconscious and also put a password on the hospital so I was unable to get updates from a nurse about OUR mother. #FamilyIsFamily #MyFamilyIsABUSIVE
I struggled to come to terms with everything and opted to call a moving company, have ALL my things chucked into storage, and hit the road. I went on a month-long road trip. Upon returning to Chicago, I threw my stuff into storage. Over the months, I’ve resented going to my storage unit. It’s embarrassing, humiliating, humbling, heartbreaking… and represented that I continue to love a family that causes me harm. Not a proud moment but it is what it is. Within a year, I still had a number of side steps, obsessing about whether they were healthy, felt loved, and sending good vibes through the spiritual world. Always keeping them in my discussions to the clouds.
Today was the last time that I had to visit my storage unit. Over the course of a year, I’ve joked about having a HUGE walk-in closet. When others stop by their parent’s for something, I accept that I no longer have that, I only have a storage unit. It stung. Each visit was easier than the previous but it stung. The storage unit was my reminder that I failed. I gave up trying. And today, I laugh, because there is a heart on the ground, each time I entered the building, just before getting into the elevator, there was a heart. It reminded me to love myself. or Universal Love. I’m plowing through my boxes to realise that I was definitely in an emotional state when packing. I have the essentials but there are a LOT of things I’ve lost along the way…
My heart still stings. My mommabear was my person. And a year ago, I literally ran away from home. My heart was broken. My things were in storage and I did what I needed to do to protect myself from abusive family members. The last time, I was in this state was in 2009, when Grandpa Corvo died. He was the person that kept everyone in line. If you were right, you were right. If you were wrong, you’d get put in your place. Grandpa was my protector. My mommabear was my protector to a certain extent as well. And all hell was about to break loose when she was unconscious so I walked away. I do not have regrets because it was EXACTLY what I needed at that moment.
Today, I close this chapter. The heaviness of a storage unit. The evolution of a home. How I define family. The resilience of my heart.
My life in stats for the last year
Roadtrips: 4
Houses: 7
Global Goodwill Ambassador recognition: 2
[paid] Hustles: 5
Community: 13k people
Words (related to DV recovery): 2.78mn
Public Speaking gigs: 15
Self-Care: 365 days
Licenses (group fitness): 4
I lost the only thing that mattered to me, my mommabear. My heart still hurts like something awful. But each day, I show up for myself. I hold space for myself. I love. When the world would understand me being harsh, I choose love.
Here’s to another chapter. I’m so grateful for the friends that have shown up. Without them, I would have probably disappeared to some random tropical island by now! (I’m NOT complaining). 
#Resilience #SelfCare #Recovery #DomesticViolence #BeYourOwnHero #OneDayAtATime #Family